In the Shadows of the Force: Chapter Four
by Eternity Rook
Summary: Ambrraksha gets in trouble with a possessive fellow student when she meets up with a handsome, charismatic, rogue Jedi Master on a routine J.A.I. Mission. It is the middle of the Yuzhan Vong War and things are about to go straight to hell . . .


CHAPTER TWO

SHEKINAH CITY, JEDI ACADEMY HANGAR, SAPHROTH, DEEP CORE, 50 ABY

Ambrraksha's blood was charged and giddy. The spaceport was active and filled with a wild energy that nevertheless was disciplined and focused.

She was going off planet for the first time in nearly forty-four years and she was doing so as a part of an elite Jedi Academy Intervention Team to attempt to intervene in the terrible war that had broken out in the rest of galaxy – and was immediately showing the first hints of threatening even the safety of the Hidden Planet itself.

Her still almost juvenile hands were steady as they strapped supplies in. It was a little odd to still possess a body that was so physiologically similar to an adolescent's when she was all of fifty-three standard years old but all the scientists and doctors at the Shekinah City MedCenter – the best on Saphroth and most of the galaxy - had assured her that it was not unnatural for her.

Ambrraksha wished she knew just what natural for her was. All of her friends who had trained with her at the Jedi Academy in the beginning were in their later years, some with children, grandchildren and a few of them even great-grandchildren. It didn't bother her often, but now was one of those rare moments.

"Ambrraksha!"

She turned to find Mrrisa Re, a humanoid Jedi student with lovely, long, blue hair who had teamed up with Ambrraksha.

Ambrraksha shook off her puzzling mood and smiled at Mrrisa. "This is going to be fun."

Mrrisha took a deep breath. She was smiling, but there was something in that smile that made Ambrraksha certain she'd said the wrong thing again. "It's a war, Ambrraksha and the people who are attacking are really horrible people."

Ambrraksha sighed. "I know. It's just nice to go somewhere else once in a while. You read the mission statement, I take it?"

"Yeah. These Vong are monsters."

Sadly, Ambrraksha had to agree. She never judged a species by their culture or by the few but the Vong . . . despite everything she'd learned about the Force, about things having a rhyme and a reason in it she saw nothing but vicious, honorless thugs who lived to ruin, despoil, deface and destroy.

They were so dark side it was scary.

"Final check." The voice was quiet, but all twenty of the students now in the shuttle broke off whatever conversations they were having and prepared for take off, strapping in and sitting back.

Kalera Caissa was no one to mess with. Ebon haired, with tea-and-milk skin, her eyes caught everything and she had no problem coming down on you like a rancor's foot if she felt you needed it.

"Done!" The students were fast, thorough and coordinated. They had to be. The previous classes that Ambrraksha had been a part of had held only perhaps one or two students who were permitted to go on the team outings.

As flippant as Saria had been, there was no doubt in any of their minds. Their mission was dangerous. It was more than possible that some of them – all of them no older than seventeen except Ambrraksha – might die. But if they passed the tests their teachers gave them, they were given the choice. The JAI Team would be sent out from time to time when there was a necessity to intervene in the great events happening in the galaxy – especially when the events risked causing the revealing of the hidden planet of Saphroth – a place untouched by the ravages of civil war, plague, Sith and worse.

But now with the incursion of the aliens from the Unknown Regions called Yuzhan Vong – a caste-based race that possessed a culture of pain, fear and self-mutilation as well as biologically-based weaponry and poisons that were difficult to counter – things had changed and the invaders were veering dangerously towards discovery of the precious treasure the Surtur Nebula protected.

Saphroth was a haven for over two billion people and had room for more. Discovery was not an option. Therefore, the Vong invasion had to be turned aside.

The ruling body of Saphroth had decided centuries ago on a policy of ninety-nine percent isolation. Discovery by anyone would destroy the culture they protected, destroy the Jedi Order that had remained solid and whole throughout Jedi purges, Mandalorian depredations and Sith conquest.

But there were times when isolation was not an option, when they had to protect the planet. Aside from the spies who were constantly working for Saproth's good in every nook and cranny of the galaxy, the JAI Teams were sent out as adjuncts to the adult Jedi from time to time to change the course of whatever dangers were threatening Saphroth.

True, most of them were barely above the age of consent, but they were the best in the Academy and accompanied by five of the most skilled instructors on all of Saphroth.

Like sending a Mon Calamari Battlecruiser to take out a TIE fighter, in Ambrraksha's opinion – but this wasn't her mission to lead, thank the Force.

If there was anything that promised to be a nightmare, that ranked pretty high. She was certainly old enough and had a lot of experience but the very thought of leading a team of kids like this gave her the jitters and the thought that they might actually listen to her . . .? About as likely as the Sith passing out creamed, sweet ice at a disabled kids charity event.

Ambrraksha laughed under her breath.

"Lock in for takeoff and Nebula breach! You crack your head open because you didn't buckle in right it's no skin off my nose. Ask someone if you don't know how to work your belt. Embarrassment is better then dying for a stupid reason."

"Yes, Master!" Oh yeah, they all knew who was in charge.

Master Kalera took the pilot seat along with Master Kellan Munroe, another teacher who was along for the mission. With soft, brown hair and somber, gray eyes, he was the focus of more than one student's crush at the Academy – but the fact that he was a slippery and lithe, multi-faceted fighter didn't hurt.

"Shekinah Air Control, this is Jedi Master Kalera with JAI Team 32-511 requesting clearance for takeoff. We will be passing through the atmosphere perimeter and the Surtur Nebula, via the Black Tentacle Run."

"Shekinah Air Control – you have clearance, Master Kalera and may the Force be with you. You're going to need it."

Ambrraksha was close enough to see Master Kalera's feral grin and her stomach pitched.

Oh Sith . . .

She felt ill. Hauling several bags and cases of tech maintenance and repair gear across the flight deck of the Kothlis II orbital station, the golden-eyed girl with chopped-off, cinnamon-golden hair staggered sharply, then righted herself with help from one of the fighter pilots standing near by.

"Sorry," she mumbled.

"No problem, sweetheart. Space-sick?" His voice was faintly sympathetic.

Ambrraksha jerked a little in shock as she belatedly felt the powerful Force presence of the pilot. The nausea and headache had distracted her but nothing short of a laser-bolt to the head was going to hide a presence like that for long from her.

Carefully, she kept her mind shielded as she looked up into eyes the color of dark, deep forest stone.

"Something wrong?" he asked innocently. He kept his hand on her arm until she steadied herself.

"No," Ambrraksha was able to keep her secondary shock well under her mental shield as she recognized the speaker.

Dark hair, green eyes, a mouth that tended to twist with black humor. The dossier she'd read hadn't mention the vivid, intense sense of him that hit her like a blast from a Star Destroyer, but there was no mistaking that it was Jedi Master Kyp Durron standing in front of her. Kriffing hell. She recognized him from the briefing folders that had been passed out to her team – and he had most definitely been one of the people to avoid.

She was, after all, for all intents and purposes, a spy of sorts – and spending time around one of the most powerful Jedi Masters around was not a good way to keep secrets, no matter how skilled Ambrraksha was at hiding her thoughts.

"Right." He drew it out a little sarcastically – but there was amusement gleaming in his eyes as he crouched to adjust something in his knapsack . "I'm here for forty-eight standard hours, max. If you want to talk to anyone after that, just head towards Coruscant – you'll get where you need to go."

Ambrraksha blinked, her jaw tight. "I'm here to repair and help against the Vong."

Kyp tilted his head and smiled.

Ambrraksha felt her heart bang hard enough to leave her slightly breathless.

"Fine by me. We could use you, though." And with that, he rejoined the other pilots, leaving Ambrraksha staring after him.

We. The Coruscanti Jedi, he meant.

"'Raksha! We got work to do!"

Ambrraksha jolted guiltily and scrambled to catch up with her team.

Kyp smiled a little at her – lovely thing, with those big, unusual eyes and soft face – but he didn't have much time for flirtation. Karrde was waiting for him and Kyp had a feeling that whatever he had to say was important.

"See you around, Raksha." He called then picked up his bag, heading to the upper levels.

Ambrraksha nearly tripped. It was a humiliatingly close thing. The first day of the mission and one of the most powerful Jedi in the entire galaxy already knew what she was and at least part of her name. Great. Just kriffing great!

"Who was that, Ambrraksha?" A pretty, blue-haired girl stared somberly at her friend. Mrrisa looked concerned, but she often looked like that.

"Jedi Master Kyp Durron." Ambrraksha sighed as she heard Saria squeal.

"He's twice as gorgeous as he looks in his pic!" The scarlet-skinned Twi'lek was grinning so hugely that Ambrraksha felt her own lips curve slightly.

"What did he say to you?"

"He figured out in about ten microseconds that I was Force-sensitive. I made myself look even more graceful by denying it. Offered to put me in touch with someone to train."

"Ambrraksha," Mrrisa started – but then she just sighed and shook her head. "We'll have to tell Master Kalera but I don't think we have to worry about."  
Caissa Kalera and Kellan Monroe were two of the six Masters assigned to the Jedi Academy Intervention Team who were currently stationed on the Kothlis II Battlestation.

The JAI teams were the special interventions that were sent out by the Hidden Planet when intervention, manipulation and changes were needed to prevent disaster – the Hidden Planet and its several million inhabitants being revealed to the galaxy, forever destroying their way of life.

The Hidden Planet had survived the Sith. They had survived millennia of attacks and dangers – Imperial aggression, war, plague, superweapons and other such disasters.

There was no way that some upstart alien species with violent tendencies were going to come in and ruin what had been growing and flourishing for so long.

The team Ambrraksha was a part of was only a peripheral team, assigned to increase equipment efficiency and root out any problems with delivery. There might be other problems along the way – saboteurs, Vong attacks or other things – but their primary duty was to see to it that the Battlestation was operating at peak performance. There were at least twenty other teams being sent out but Ambrraksha knew nothing of them.

"You're certain that he was suspicious of nothing else, Ambrraksha?" Kalera's cool, turquoise eyes watched her with a steadiness that made Ambrraksha want to squirm a little.

She shook her head. "He was doing a little casual recruiting, nothing more. No attempt to use the Force on me." It was her business and her business alone how her chest and throat had felt a little tight, a little hot – just like her face. Her own business that she felt like she'd just downed a straight shot of Corellian Whiskey every time she thought about the rogue Jedi Master.

"Master Kalera, the man's a confirmed murderer and was a powerful Sith apprentice at one time – we should take precautions. How can we trust he didn't scan her?" That was Moamon Hass, a dusky-skinned human boy. Extremely handsome and quick-tempered, he'd aggressively flirted with Ambrraksha, pushing it to the point where she'd put him on his backside hard enough to crack bone and he'd been reprimanded by three members of the Jedi High Council of the Hidden Planet.

Ambrraksha clenched her fists. "I know how to shield, Hass!"

Hass smiled, and it was slow, condescending and smirking. "He's a powerful Jedi, Carrick. I'm sure you tried but this just isn't something the lesser skilled can succeed in. Don't worry, it's not your fault." He turned to Master Kalera, dismissing Ambrraksha in that one movement. He always did that, despite the fact that Ambrraksha was perhaps five times his age.

She hissed, the sharp sound escaping her lips like a tea kettle boiling. Stupid child.

"I trust Ambrraksha's evaluation of the situation, Moamon."

Kalera's dismissive tone offended Hass and he leaned forward angrily.

Standing behind Moamon, Saria had a huge grin on her face. Uh-oh . . . he's gonna get it . . .!

"Master Kalera, I am the highest graded student in my class and have studied the Coruscanti Jedi well. I think I understand this threat well enough and am very concerned that he could be a threat to the goals we were sent here for."

"I am concerned about a greater threat, Moamon. You. Now, I want all the students to get to your assigned sections. Saria and Ambrraksha, I want you working on the fighters in this bay. You will also be the anchors in supervising our shuttle for eventual withdrawal and assisting any other member in any difficulties locating areas and navigating the Battlestation. Moamon, you will be working with Mrrisa in Engineering. I get one whiff of any trouble you're making and you're confined to the shuttle for the remainder of this trip. Ziran, Shisgiine," Kalera turned to the male Bimm and the female Calamarian, "You're in medical. Don't forget the data packs to plant in the computers there. Wenna, Jommy," Kalera indicated the Amberlene girl and a Chadra-Fan male with shinning, dark eyes, "Weapons. Report in at twelve hundred. Clear?"

"Clear." The reply was quiet and unhesitating. Even Moamon shut up at this point – he was blatantly obnoxious, rude and hateful but he was well-drilled and would shut up when it was necessary. He wouldn't like it though . . .

"He is so hot for you." Saria shook her head as they changed into their maintenance overalls and headed to check in with the head fighter technician.

Ambrraksha scowled. "He's the most horrid male in the galaxy. I'd date a Hutt first." She nearly bared her teeth but she didn't want to scare any passer-byes.

"He's not so bad looking – he just has that attitude. It's so possessive. He got so steamy under the speeder hood because of the way you were looking at Durron, you know."

Ambrraksha blinked.

Saria smiled sweetly at the head tech as they approached the maintenance station – then Ambrraksha smiled herself as she felt a surge of the Force. Saria was playing with his head . . .

"You are so good at that," Ambrraksha shoved a soft curl of hair out of her face and glanced back at the befuddled, grateful senior technician.

Saria blew him a kiss, and then grinned with happy smugness. "It's kinda fun – and it's for a good cause, you have to admit!"

"Yeah. Alright, we've got our assignment," Ambrraksha looked over the datapad she'd been given.

"Sithing Hell. Saria . . ."

Too late.

Saria's delicate lips curved into a happy 'oh' and she strode forward in her battered tech overalls, t-shirt and jacket with her hips swinging flirtatiously.

There was a group of fighter pilots there and by Ambrraksha's guess, there were not one, not two, but six of them that were Force sensitive. Maybe even Jedi. A string of curses ran through her head – then she calmed down a little.

They didn't seem to find anything out of place with Saria.

Ambrraksha considered. Maybe it was just that she acted so odd.

"Ambrraksha, come on. We have to get started and you should probably meet Kyp's Dozen – that's who these ships belong to."

Ambrraksha glanced over at the ships. A little rag-tag, but she imagined they could do plenty of damage. "You need some serious maintenance."

A young woman in the group shrugged, while a tough-looking man grinned. "We've got no lack of Vong to blow up – the only problem is, they tend to shoot back."

Ambrraksha smiled faintly. "Well, we're cleared for it. Ria? We're not going to get much done for them socializing."

The Twi'lek female pouted, but said goodbye to the pilots and joined Ambrraksha. Jointly they each took separate ships. They worked silently but with enjoyment. Both of them enjoyed tinkering and the thought that they were working on the ships of at least a few Jedi gave them reason to pay a little more attention to detail. Every so often, Saria looked up to keep on eye on the special shuttle the JAI team had come in on, but it was tucked safely away in a corner of the bay, well-camouflaged.

Above Ambrraksha's head, an astromech droid beeped as it suddenly became aware of her. It beeped a sudden, demanding inquiry.

"My name's Raksha. I'm a tech and I'm working on this fighter." With some consideration, Ambrraksha looked over the beaten propulsion system of the X-Wing she was working on.

The droid beeped again.

"No, I didn't ask permission -" She broke off. Blaster bolts. The irony was so perfect.

If she didn't know better, she'd think the Force was trying to tell her something.

"Droid, are you telling me-" the astromech cut her off with an irritated bunch of beeps and dweets. "Sorry. Zero. Are you telling me this fighter belongs to Jedi Master Kyp Durron?"

An affirmative.

"No, I didn't ask him. I'm cleared for it and it needs work." Curiosity tickled her and against her better judgment, she continued talking with the droid. "So you guys have seen a lot of action, huh?"

Another affirmative, this one sarcastic.

"Cheeky thing, aren't you?" Ambrraksha murmured. It made her feel oddly cheered.

She continued talking with him for a little bit, then fell into silence as she got into the guts of the propulsion system and really started tweaking. Everything was knocked off kilter – doubtlessly by continuous blasting and jolts - and it couldn't be helping the fighter's reaction time any.

"Sithspit!" Ambrraksha reached into the toolkit suddenly and found that she was missing her diagnostic rerouter. "Saria, are you pinching my tools?"

"Sorry!"

The necessary instrument came sailing through the air and Ambrraksha caught it easily enough using the Force. She glared at Saria, but Saria was cheerful – despite the smear of oil on her pretty cheek.

"Come on, Ambrraksha. Too many people around here just want help, they don't care if we're Force-talented!"

"They'll care if they suddenly find out there are two strange Jedi on their battlestation." Ambrraksha didn't entirely say it out loud, sending it through the Force to make sure Saria heard her across the fighter bay.

"They'll feel you or hear you easier if you're using the Force like that. Cool your jets, Ambrraksha!"

Ambrraksha growled, then got back to work on the propulsion system. Tightening and twisting, rerouting and restarting, testing and re-testing.

Finally, she stretched her aching back and arms, shutting the propulsion hatch.

"We should probably get something to eat before we report in and continue on our assignment."

Ambrraksha wasn't surprised to find that she was starved. "Hey Zero, where's the Mess Hall on this station?"

Zero whirled and beeped for a moment, then tootled an answer.

"Level 16," Ambrraksha called over to Saria. "At least he thinks so."

Saria grinned. "Okay. Let's clean up first."

Finally reasonably clean of oil and grime, the two girls made for the eating hall. There were plenty of other people there. Pilots, officers, techs and others.

Loading up her platter, Ambrraksha followed Saria to a back table and gratefully sat down. Despite her well broken-in boots, her feet were starting to hurt. She had eaten perhaps two bites of the greens on her plate when she saw Moamon Hass stamping his obnoxious way over to their table.

"Say one word to me that doesn't concern our immediate mission, Hass and I'll hit you so hard you'll go extravehicular."

The boy sneered at her and Ambrraksha had to struggle to not laugh out loud. His smooth, handsome features rearranged themselves quite comically for that expression. "I've been getting important things done while you've been flirting with pilots and tinkering, Carrick."

Ambrraksha gave him a droll look, but continued eating. At least the war hadn't had the food suffering too badly here. The greens were tasty and the odd pittah sandwich she had picked up was an unexpected delight.

"You see Durron again?" Moamon asked in between bites.

Ambrraksha gritted her teeth and didn't speak, only eating with an angry ferocity, biting into her sandwich with the approximate viciousness and enthusiasm of a hawk tearing apart a small rodent.

Moamon – as usual – noticed nothing. It usually took nothing short of someone smacking him over the head with a Mon Calamari Battle Cruiser to get him to shut up or see anything.

Even that was hit or miss.

He was the galaxy's most childish, obnoxious and brain-dead Jedi and seemed determined to live up to that reputation constantly, Ambrraksha thought.

"I know how girls always seem to like the really dangerous men but you don't know how bad this guy is."

Ambrraksha rolled her eyes. No, of course not. She'd only read the entire personnel folder on him cover to back and kept a copy of it for herself. Slime-kissing Gungan!

Moamon took a couple bites of his food, watched Ambrraksha's reaction to his words. As always, her attractive face was turned slightly away from him, golden eyes as cold as Hoth. She was a genius with a lightsaber, but she had no sense, no sense at all!

"He's no good and never will be, no matter how much people call him a Master. You want a man, look for one who's got skill and has worked for what he's got. That hotshot, bad-tempered flyboy would just use you and toss you away like nothing!" Moamon finished on a flash of temper. Of course she was still ignoring him. The burn of attraction he felt for her just made Moamon even more furious.

Desperately holding onto her temper, Ambrraksha reminded herself that murder was most definitely of the Dark Side except under the most extreme of circumstances.

But what if she just . . . damaged him a bit?

That wasn't really Dark Side, was it? It wasn't like he couldn't use a good knock to straighten him out – because if he kept this up, one of the other far less disciplined, experienced Jedi were going to go Sith all over his ass and that would just be that.

It would be a selfless favor to the universe . . .

"Hey, what are you all mad about?"

The sheer ridiculousness of that had Ambrraksha's eyes crossing - and then she and Saria cracked up into gales of laughter at Moamon's dull-wittedness.

"Enough," Mrrisa said, although her tone was gently amused. Although Ambrraksha was nearly six times her age, Mrrisa was usually the one who ended up being the leader as she had the coolest head and the most patience.

"She needs to stay away from sithing Durron," Moamon just wasn't going to give it up. "If he looked at you it was for one reason and one reason only," Moamon's eyes slid insultingly over Ambrraksha's chest and she flushed, looking away.

Not because Moamon's crude insinuation bothered her, but because the very thought of being . . . involved with Kyp Durron like that had her entire body hitting the approximate temperature of Tatooine's twin suns combined.

"You'd like spending time in his bed, wouldn't you? Going to make it a threesome, Saria?" Moamon's face was pleased and smug. He had been furious at Ambrraksha looking at outsider trash like Durron, constantly ignoring him – and when Moamon got angry, he did stupid things.

Ambrraksha hissed, viciously. The hiss was more feral than any human could make it. The extra muscles in her throat – not unlike those of a bird of prey, she'd been told by the Shekinah City doctors on the Hidden Planet – flexed, making the sound almost shockingly loud.

Saria's face was uncharacteristically sober. "You need to take that back and leave now, Moamon." She watched Ambrraksha carefully.

There were people staring now, but none of the three team members were paying attention.

Mrrisa desperately looked around. Neither Master Kalera or Master Monroe were anywhere to be seen – and Mrrisa wasn't deluded enough to think she could hold Ambrraksha back when she lost it . . .

"Come on! Kyp Durron is murderous trash who can't stay in one bed long enough to see just who he's with and everyone knows it."

Ambrraksha shrieked, impossibly loud and painfully high as she took the leap over the table and plowed her fist into Moamon's face. Almost everyone in the room clapped their hands over their ears, wincing hard and then the two combatants were rolling in a bundle on the floor, punching, kicking, grunting and in Ambrraksha's case, clawing and biting very effectively.

She was just sinking into the middle of a really fine blood rage when she felt someone try to grab her. She shook them off with a violent snap – but it had been enough to distract Moamon, who got in a punch that made her face sing with pain. Screaming again, Ambrraksha dropped the weight of her entire body into a gut-punch, almost unconsciously using the Force to ramp up her strength and Moamon grunted then coughed, pushing away from her.

She didn't care if he didn't want to fight anymore. She wanted him unconscious – hell, she wanted him dead, but she wasn't a damn Darkie! He'd attacked her verbally and something in her blood screamed at her that he had challenged her dominance and was a threat until he was unconscious. She snapped her foot across his face and was satisfied as she felt him go limp.

"All right, that's ENOUGH!" Invisible hands grabbed her, yanking her into the air like one might an errant puppy by the scruff of its neck. Ambrraksha yelped, her temper dropping away as if she'd been doused with icy water.

Jedi! Force help her, she'd revealed herself to the Jedi! Outsiders!

Kalera was going to kill her. Monroe . . . oh hell. Shame burned her gut. She liked him and this was going to make him angry like he rarely had ever been.

The human male who held her aloft was dark-haired. With sharp, irritated eyes and the lightsaber that hung at his belt, Ambrraksha resignedly realized that she'd had the fine, fine luck to have partially revealed herself to yet another one of the most famous Jedi in the galaxy.

Kyle Katarn. His face had changed someone from the photo that she'd been given in her briefing folder but it was recognizable enough – especially when she heard someone mutter, "Thanks, Kyle. I couldn't pull the girl off – she's got to be as strong as a Barabel!"

Ambrraksha considered the sharply and fashionably dressed, dark-haired young man who stood beside him and couldn't quite place him. He was a Jedi though . . .

"What's the problem here?"

Ambrraksha opened her mouth and found that her temper wasn't quite gone. "He was being a complete bastard and harassing the hell out of me."

"That's a reason to beat him unconscious?"

Ambrraksha shrugged, starting to smile a little – then stopped, hissing a little at the pain in her face. Her lip was stinging and bleeding, her eye was starting to throb and her jaw hurt. She must have made a small sound of pain because Katarn gently put her down. He still kept a hand on her shoulder, though. "Someone get a medic in here," he called. They waited until Moamon had been checked, strapped into a stretcher and then headed to Medical.

Limping slightly, Ambrraksha walked alongside Katarn and tried to figure out how she could slip away. "Look, I've got a medkit at my workstation –"

Katarn gave her an amused look and she nearly snarled. Then winced when her cheek stung painfully.

"If you want to get into a fistfight in the middle of the mess hall, you should be ready to be reported to your supervisor or take it elsewhere. You have a problem with his opinion on Master Durron, I take it?"

Ambrraksha shrugged, not saying anything.

"You're going to get into a lot of fights if you have to take on everyone who throws insults his way. Master Durron is a man who has a lot of enemies and critics."

"If they're stupid enough to call him a Sith whore and me just plain old 'whore' to my face they'll get what they're asking for."

She heard Katarn sigh. "Then learn how to fight if you're going to pick one with an opponent who has nearly two feet on you and probably seventy pounds of mostly muscle. Hold on for a minute."

Ambrraksha obligingly stopped walking, leaning a little on the wall to stop the room from revolving. It wasn't that she didn't know how to fight – she'd just shoved all of her training out the airlock the minute she'd lost her temper.

Maybe she did need to work on her hand-to-hand a little more.

She was startled when she felt him pick her up. Effortlessly, she noticed resentfully. Not that she wanted to weigh more – she just hated being so small!

"It's not that bad. He's unconscious," she muttered distractedly.

A dry laugh from Katarn. "Go to sleep, kid."

"I'm almost twice your age," she mumbled, then slipped under at the gentle touch of his mind.

When she woke up, she was flat on her back, surrounded by white walls and medical instruments. A sudden flash of panic hit her. Could she possibly have kriffed this up any more?

"Easy, kid." A young man rose from a chair – she recognized him, finally. Ganner Rhysode. He'd been a secondary mention in the reports – too arrogant and flamboyant to be considered a detection threat.

"You're fine," he smiled as he put a hand on her arm to restrain her. "It just looks like your head – contrary to first impressions," he grinned with humor, then continued "Is not as hard as it looks. You got a small fracture, but the Doc fixed you up. You need to rest, and he's got some questions on your medical results."

Questions. Not a good idea . . .

Ambrraksha thought carefully. There was no one around but the Too-Onebee droid. Could she fuzz Ganner's thoughts? He was a Jedi and a trained one at that, but she didn't have much of a choice.

If she tried it, she was going to have to do it fast. He'd know what she was doing almost instantly.

She had probably thirty or so years of training on him. Not bad odds.

"Could you get me some water?" She kept her voice very small, very afraid. No threat, nudge him towards being soothing, unobtrusive . . . trusting.

"Sure." He turned towards a small dispensary, momentarily distracted – and Ambrraksha mentally lunged, drew a thick curtain of rain and fog across his thoughts that was smothering and disorienting.

He flinched. She felt him instantly try to avoid, then struggle.

Standing as quickly as she could, Ambrraksha held the image she used over him, tightening her grip. He was arrogant, but he had strength.

First, Moamon. She spared a precious bit of attention to check his readouts.

He was fine, the thick-headed Sarlacc. Patched up.

She could leave Moamon here, he had a cover story. But she had to get rid of her medical data. If there were questions asked about her species that even she couldn't answer that would drawn attention to the J.A.I. Team that they couldn't afford.

Fortunately, this would take little effort at all. She reached over and stuck a thumbnail-sized Broadcaster Chip on the back of the Too-Onebee droid.

"Too-Onebee, this is Nestchick, ID number 2679-67-789. I order you to erase all medical data including backups taken from me. When finished, restart and broad-erase all memory of myself from your own memory, including backup." The chip would also carbonize when it had finished its purpose.

"Acknowledged," the Too-Onebee said amicably.

Ganner started to turn.

Ambrraksha gave a surge of strength into the mind fog and then moved as fast as she could without attracting attention.

"Hey, are you okay?" A woman in the hallway paused, her brow furrowing.

Ambrraksha grinned with fake cheer. "Yeah. I just got into a bit of a fight."

"You look pretty bad."

Ambrraksha turned up the charm, adding a little bit of smugness to her grin – and gestured, touching the woman's mind with the Force and nudging her attention away from the unusual sight she presented, blurring her memory. "I'm fine."

"You're fine. That's good – but get some sleep. We need all the people we've got working."

"Agreed." Ambrraksha said, but the woman was already walking past, having forgotten her.

"She did what?"

Ganner looked like he was turning red as he stood in the fighter bay, his arms crossed across his chest more than a little defensively. "She fuzzed me."

Kyle looked thoughtful. "She's a Jedi."

"A Jedi?" Kyle and Ganner turned to find Kyp standing there, pack slung over his shoulder and wearing his flight suit. The rest of his squad was already heading for their ships.

"It was nothing. Just a little . . . incident."

Kyp smiled. "Like Sith. Someone was good enough to fuzz the mighty Rhysode? Who?"

Katarn sighed. "We don't actually know who she is."

"She?" There was a brief moment's puzzlement and then a delighted, huge grin spread across his mouth.

"You know her?" Katarn's voice made it plain that Kyp's silence wasn't appreciated.

"I might. She's no danger, just a sneaky, little minx. Sorry, no time to talk – we've got a rescue mission to get to."

Kyp strode away across the deck towards his fighter and then paused as a small troupe of techs walked across the fighter bay. They were all very subdued. They might not have set off any bells in his head, but he felt her.

Raksha, the scarlet Twi'lek girl had called her.

She looked pretty bruised up – but whole. She radiated humiliation, her golden eyes downcast. He pinged the slightest whisper of a mental tap against her shields and he saw her jerk, those eyes come up and widen.

She focused on him and he felt the humiliation and dejection fade. Felt intense interest, confusion, embarrassment and – interesting – a sensual interest that she was apparently completely bewildered by. A little sadness. She would miss him when she had to leave.

That startled him. He'd barely known this girl for a day and yet he felt warmth in her regard of him that was usually reserved for close friends.

Force-forsaken hell, she had to be lonely.

I'll catch you later, Raksha. Count on it.

"They will try to find you, Ambrraksha. This is going to make our mission intensely more difficult." The disappointment in Kalera's eyes burned like acid. "Fortunately, Moamon is capable enough of keeping his mouth shut but it will be difficult for him to evade two Jedi."

Ambrraksha blinked. She'd messed up like no one in the history of the JAI teams had ever done so. Saria's hand tightly linked with her own the whole time had helped. Sympathetic looks from both her and Mrissa helped.

But the wizard secret that she was keeping buried behind every shield she possessed eased any shame.

He remembered her. He liked her – and he had promised to see her again. She had no idea how it would ever be likely to happen. She was perhaps half-again his age but that hardly counted. Too all outward appearances, she was five, maybe ten years his junior. Her heart was so buoyant she wanted to laugh.

"Master Durron is leaving with his Dozen. They won't be asking questions about me any time soon. I also placed a Broadcaster Chip on the droid who scanned me and picked up the oddities in my blood type. The only people I consider would ask any kind of questions we can't afford are the Jedi Kyle Katarn and Ganner Rhysode. They both frequent the fighter bay but I doubt they're going to have time to ask questions of every tech." Ambrraksha shifted.

"The Senior Tech wouldn't be of much help either," Saria put in. "He's so overloaded he'd probably blow a circuit if you asked him to remember one particular anonymous tech mechanic. I played with his memory and I think I got a good feel for him."

"I am also playing merry hell with my presence in the Force." Ambrraksha said. That was one of Saria's tricks she'd learned. She couldn't blank herself out entirely without tripping on her own feet but she could adjust it so that trying to find her was like trying to get a good comm signal in a strong magnetic storm. "They'll have to get together at least two of the Senior Jedi including Skywalker himself to get a solid grip on the fact that I'm here and then more work to pin down just where I am. I didn't feel like a Sith so they're probably not going to give it top priority."

"We should move you to a different section of the station." Kalera was coldly furious, but she was listening.

"I'd stand out anywhere else. I stink in medical, I get sick in engineering." She wasn't sure if it was a particular physiological quirk or just psychological, but she hated to be anywhere around the engine of a space-going construct of any kind. "I'm good with ships and I'm pure ice at playing hide-and-go-seek!"

Saria had to laugh at that.

Kalera nodded, her anger easing. "Acceptable. You will, however, be eating any further meals in the shipdock to avoid not only further conflict but detection as well."

Ambrraksha grimaced. She'd have to find a room to hide in or her food would get tainted with the scent of fuel and chemicals. "Understood. Moamon?"

Kalera sighed. "He's still required in Engineering, Ambrraksha. I understand that you were not the one who originated the arguement but he's still needed there for a day. After that, he will be confined to the shuttle until we reach our next destination. He will be eating his meals in a place other than the Mess Hall as well, however."

Tough but fair. Ambrraksha didn't want to screw up the mission. She honestly believed in protecting the only home she had and wasn't going to compromise that because she was angry at Hass. She hesitated. "Do you know what he said, Master Kalera?"

"I know. You are in trouble Ambrraksha, make no mistake about that. If we survive this mission, there will be some consequences for you – but I can tell you that Moamon's grades are going to suffer drastically for the first time in his schooling and he's going to be forbidden from ever going out on any a JAI team again."

Ambrraksha took a deep breath. "Okay. Permission to get back to work, Master?"

Kalera nodded. "You will remain in the shipbay but you are not to be seen, Carrick. Or you'll be staying in the front of the shuttle for the rest of the leg of this trip."

Eek. "Understood."

"I think we don't need to worry about her."

"Kyle, she fuzzed me and now the reports of the droid 'accidentally' loosing memory time, her medical reports being 'lost'? And on top of that, I don't know if Durron would be the one to listen to about people we can trust." Ganner was stalking around.

Kyle sighed. Kyp was contentious, troublesome and was a major force behind the current split in the Jedi – but he was solid. He walked a very careful line that leaned more towards the Dark Side than Kyle liked but he had instincts that rarely failed.

Kyle also had to admit, he'd liked the mysterious girl more than a little. She'd looked frail compared to her muscular and solid opponent, but the boy – his ident card had identified him as Marawon – had had nearly as much damage done to him as the much smaller girl. She was a pugnacious little fighter.

"Do you think she's Peace Brigade?" He asked the younger man.

Ganner blinked. "I don't know. No, I don't think so, but . . . we don't know!" It frustrated him.

"You need to be calm, Ganner. That's the only way you're going to get a straight look at this."

Ganner glanced sideways at Kyle. "You liked her."

Kyle smiled, a little ruefully. "Yes, I did. And you don't because she was more skilled than you."

Ganner blew out a breath. "She was just a kid," he muttered. But that statement didn't feel true to him.

"She looked like a kid," Kyle agreed. He remembered the mumbled words the girl had spoken to him before he had made her rest.

I'm almost twice your age.

It was something interesting to think about.

Finally, after what felt like days of aching muscles, too much sticky oil and endless engines and computers that required repair, she and Saria received the signal to prep for leaving.

So much to do, so little time.

Stripping, Ambrraksha followed Saria into the group showers and nearly moaned in pleasure at the sensation of hot water on her sore body.

Saria laughed. "Tech work is fun but it's so dirty – and not the kind that I like!"

Ambrraksha had to wearily grin. Master Kalera said we're heading to Fondor, next. Refugee work. We'll ride with the Battlestation and disembark there.

Much more agreeable, Saria answered back through Forcespeak. It wasn't entirely necessary but did prevent anyone overhearing things that shouldn't be overheard.

Ambrraksha hissed a little as some soap got in her eye. "I have a bad feeling about it, Saria." She murmured. It was the same feeling she'd had before her parents had died – and it was strong.

"Hey, don't worry about it!" Saria patted her on the arm as she headed over to grab a towel. "Master Kalera and Master Munroe have taken all the necessary precautions. No one's died in like, three hundred years!"

Still, Ambrraksha decided that she needed to talk to one of the teachers as soon as possible. It could just be nervousness – but she'd rather not end up as a sticky smear on the ground because she hadn't paid enough attention.

The nightmares were still plaguing her. She would have to see a Jedi Counselor when she got back to Saphroth – they were starting to affect her sleep pattern.

The refugee center in the station that was known as Fondor Central was teaming with the lost, the hopelessly bewildered. Ambrraksha had locked her shields down so tightly she felt nothing.

A man cried out as a doctor bandaged his leg and one of the other kids in another group drifted in his direction. Like clockwork, Kalera and Munroe casually lifted their hands in front of them, spread their fingers.

Spread out. Get to work.

Refugee work was far less structured. Ease the hurt, terminate the confusion. There was too much to do and even the Fondor workers with the New Republic relief didn't have enough people.

A child stood in the hallway, crying and crying, her arms wrapped around the pale, ragged dress she wore.

Ambrraksha was there instantly, radiating warmth and safety as she crouched to take the child into her arms. "What's your name, sweetheart?"

"Kana," the girl sobbed. "Can't find my mommy. I looked for hours and hours and nobody knows her!" She nearly started howling again, but Ambrraksha lifted the child to her hip and used the Force to sooth her, ease the sense of electrified anxiety the child felt.

"We'll find her," Ambrraksha said gently. "Tell me about her."

Even as the child rambled on about red hair and hands that smelled like ivory syrup – a favored sweet, by the sound of the child's voice – Ambrraksha let her attention sail wide, scatter in a cohesive pattern like a net. She 'tasted' the feeling of each of them as she went, trying not to absorb too much of the pain and fear.

And then the scent/taste of something thick, sweet and soft exploded over her senses. She smiled. Ivory Syrup.

"I found her." Ambrraksha began to weave her way towards the unique presence that she felt. It was a good way across the base – no wonder Kana had gotten lost.

As she set the child down so she could run to her mother, Ambrraksha suddenly shuddered. Closer, closer. Whatever was coming was closer . . .

She had to talk to the Masters. Now.

"You'll be all right now, Kana?"

The little girl happily nodded, scrubbing at her face.

"Thank you." The mother clutched her child to her and smiled radiantly.

Ambrraksha managed a warm smile. "Keep her safe."

She began to run. Where was Master Kalera, Master Monroe? Again, she tossed her mind wide, searching, searching, her heart beat picking up speed and force . . .

The sun was brilliant on the barren land outside. People milled about, some crying, some trying to get inside, some just sitting there listless and waiting to be gotten to. There were thousands of thousands of people here . . .

Master Kalera! Master Munroe! Ambrraksha yelled it through the Force, tears running down her cheeks as panic tore at her heart.

"Raksha! What in hell is going on?" Kalera was suddenly in front of her, Monroe grasping her arm firmly.

Something's wrong, something's coming . . . Ambrraksha's breath was coming too fast. Run, run, run! Death! Predator!Blood! her mental voice was the clarion scream of a hawk turned prey . . .

Before either of the Masters could say anything, Ambrraksha's eyes rolled back in her head and she fell screaming into the darkness.

It was coming to eat her. Images of blood, pain and screaming despair assaulted her and she knew that the Dark was going to eat her and she couldn't see a way to escape . . .


End file.
